It is 16th January, 2015. It will be 16th February, 16th March... soon. What is a date, month or a year to me? Nothing but a jumble of numbers and words in my mind. They have absolutely no significance to me. They come and go, uninvited and uncherished; forgotten soon in the melee of life. The mornings, afternoons and the nights are a blur within each other. Only the evenings are mine, for thoughts, dreams and frustrations. And the serene hour in the early morning when I water the plants and they seem to wait for me eagerly, nodding with content after their thirst is quenched.
Guess I am out of touch with everything right now, so no blog entry for many days. From many days, a question is bothering me. I haven't found a satisfactory answer yet. So I'll write it down here. Maybe anybody who reads this may know the answer. "Just because we are journalists, writers, opinion creators and thinkers, do we have the right to judge others? Either personally or professionally?" I think we don't have the right to judge a person, even if we are right. But as writers, we would have to judge others whether we like it or not. And it's very difficult forcing people to think, but that's what we are doing or pretending to be doing right? Another question: "How come life is so simple if you just let it live by itself without bothering much and so complicated if you try to manipulate it or even understand it?" Blessed are the ignorant. We who can understand everything, try not to let anything go by without understanding and thus miss the b
aint time an illusion?
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